Playtime for the Children
by Crimson White
Summary: follow up to Co Misery. Edmund and Lucy are not children.


Characters do not belong to me, but to the wonderful C S Lewis.

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_Tap tap tap tap tapppity tap tap tap tapitty tap –_

Edmund stared at Lucy's pencil as it danced its annoyingly consistent rhythms on the wooden table top. Their mother had sent them to the lounge room ten minutes ago. _Playtime. _ He snorted with anger. They had been exiled to the lounge room for _Playtime._

_Tappity tappity tap tap tappity tappity tap tap_

He focused his eyes on his book and tried to block out the single reedy thump. How dare his mother demean him so? _**Playtime.**_ The word sounded more and more offensive as he repeated it in his mind. As if he was nothing but a child.

_Tappity tap tappity tap tappity tap_

He growled. "_Lucy."_

_Tappit –_

Lucy paused, her pencil held over her blank page. She glanced up. Her stormy eyes matched his. Her eyes narrowed.

"What?"

He glared at her hand. "You _know_ what."

"No Edmund." She smirked. "I don't _know_ what."

_Tap tap tap tap tappity tap tap tap tap tappity tap-_

He really shouldn't get cross with her. They were all very high strung right now. Their previous conversation was testament to that. Lucy would never purposely antagonise him. But she was. Edmund groaned and tried to refocus. Oh dear, she was.

He recognized the useless energy, the anxious gnawing which was visible in her clear eyes. She was very much like her eldest brother, easy to read that is. Except Peter hadn't come out of his room all day. At least Lucy had managed to haul herself from her room. Though, that may not have necessarily been a good thing by the look of it. He clenched his teeth against the insistent tapping and tried to distract himself.

_Tappity tappity tap tap tappity tappity tap tap._

It didn't help that he was itching for a fight. He'd love to head out to the training grounds right now, but as they were nonexistent here in England and their backyard was about as big as a matchbox, that was out of the question. His fingers began to tap against the table in time with her pencil.

_Tappity tap tappity tap tappity tap_

"LUCY!"

_Tap –_

Again, Lucy stopped tapping, this time looking up at him innocently.

"Yes Edmund?"

He glared at her, his fingers creasing the pages of his book. Lucy turned away from him, a small smug smile on her face. And for one second there was blessed silence.

_Tap tap tappity tap tap tappity._

Edmund shut his book with a loud bang and reached over to try and yank the pencil out of her fingers.

"Stop being so childish!" he bit at her. He wasn't expecting her response to be quite so sudden and quite so vicious.

"_I'm not a child!"_ Lucy jumped to her feet. Her little fingers tightened around the pencil he had tried to grab and then she hurled it at him.

It took one second for his temper to snap.

"_Did you just throw a pencil at me?"_

"You deserved it!" Lucy's tiny face was pink with rage.

"For what? Edmund pushed back his chair. "Stopping you from wearing a hole in the table?"

"If I want to wear a hole in the table I can, it's mine!" Lucy folded her arms in front of her chest.

"No it's not!" he reminded her spitefully. "Its mum and dad's and I don't think _they'd_ like it if you made a hole! You're gonna be grounded for sure."

"_Grounded!_" Lucy's face was now purple with indignation. "They can't _ground_ me!"

"Sure they can." Edmund smirked. He knew exactly how to hurt her, because this particular pain hurt him too. "You're only _eight_, Lucy. Or have you forgotten?"

Lucy became still and turned very white, never a good sign. "Well you're only _eleven,_ Edmund! Look at you, reading a book on physics! You're not supposed to be reading that –or have you forgotten?"

That stopped him. Edmund glanced down at the book. He hadn't consciously picked it from the library; he'd just gravitated towards his favourite section by instinct.

"And who are you calling a child? No one will listen, no one will pay attention, and no one will care _at all_ if you find a flaw in one of those theories. You're still a child too Edmund!"

Their mother suddenly appeared in the doorway, holding a bowl and a wooden spoon in each hand. She eyed them with concern.

"What's all this?"

Lucy gulped a deep breath of air and Edmund slunk back to his chair.

"Nothing." He mumbled.

Mother looked between them, trying to decide if they really were alright. But she had been in an extraordinary good mood since their return home; Edmund knew she wouldn't rouse on them. Sure enough, her face slipped into a wide smile.

"Well, alright. I'm making Peter's favourite biscuits; I think it will cheer him up."

Edmund snorted at the expression of disbelief on Lucy's face. But he had to agree. It would take many, many biscuits to cheer Peter up.

"Would you like to taste the batter?" Mother held out a spoon helpfully, her eyes sparkling.

"Um, no thanks, mother." Lucy said softly, averting her eyes.

She, like Edmund -and he had seen Susan grimace at times -, found that the food ingredients in this place called England were full of so many preservatives that the taste was diluted, manufactured and absolutely nothing like what it should be.

"Well, come and see me if you change your mind. I'll leave you two to keep playing" Mother placed the spoon back into the batter bowl and chucked Lucy on the chin and ruffled Edmund's hair gently as she left.

_Playing_. Edmund scowled at the degrading word. He didn't mind the hair ruffling. It was just the patronizing smile and words that came with it. He looked up and met Lucy's frown. For a moment they stared at each other with complete understanding.

Lucy sighed and dropped back into her seat. "Sorry, for snapping at you."

"'salright. I was a bit short with you too."

Edmund spied Lucy's pencil sitting half obscured under the couch where she had tossed it. He scooped it up and placed it in front of her.

She smiled up at him gratefully. "Thanks."

"That was a good throw, almost took my eyeball out." He tried to jest.

Lucy shook her head morosely. "The balance was out, if I'd had my dagger, you'd be needing a dose of cordial right about now."

They sat in strained silence for about one minute before –

_Tap tap tap tap –_

Lucy caught herself and put the pencil down with a frustrated groan and an apologetic look to her older brother. "I'm just so on edge!" she complained.

"I know, me too. Sorry Lu." He said.

She waved away his apology, already her attention was diverted. She was scribbling hard on her paper. Edmund tried to read his book, but the words were blurring in front of his eyes. He worried for a moment that the knowledge he had worked hard to achieve and accumulate was filtering away like sand through his fingers.

"I'm _not _a child. I'm _not._" Lucy whispered in a broken tiny voice.

Edmund looked up from his book. Lucy was staring at her page, her pencil abandoned, large blue eyes filling with frustrated tears. She noticed his glance and pushed the paper towards him, turning her face away and hastily wiping her nose.

Edmund stared at the childish stick figure. He glanced up at his sister. Surely not

Lucy nodded in answer to his unspoken question. "I can't draw. Not like I used to."

Edmund's tongue was frozen. His sister was the most glorious artist. He had admired her talent for years and many of her paintings and drawings hung in his chamber back at Cair Paravel. Her mixture of fanciful imagination and vivid imagery rendered her art so poignant, so unbelievably magnificent that many came to their castle just to gaze upon her creations.

Lucy was gazing at her fingers. "They won't work properly anymore. They're too small." She glared at her own hands traitorously. Edmund knew the feeling.

He felt that feeling when he reached for a cupboard, only to find it too far out of his reach. He knew that feeling when he couldn't offer to lift Susan's cases for her, because he was too weak.

He hated feeling small. But that's what he was. He was a child.

Children were sent into the lounge for Playtime. Children were fed, patted on the head when all of their vegetables were gone and then sent to bed. Children were not allowed to hold intellectual discussion with their mothers. Children were not allowed to read books on physics. Children were not allowed to bother their older brother when he was in a bad mood. Children were kept away from their older brother when what he needed most was a good kick up the – when what he needed most was a reminder that not _everything_ was gone. Edmund glanced at Lucy. _They_ were still here. And they needed their brother. They needed their King. And Peter needed to know that. But what did he, a mere child, know about anything? And Peter hadn't come to see him. Peter had let mother pull Edmund away from his room. Perhaps, and it hurt to think, but perhaps, Peter saw him as just a child too.

Edmund reached out and grasped Lucy's hand. She was right; she _was_ tiny, even in his small boyish fingers.

"We'll grow." He said to her firmly.

She tried to smile. "Yes, I know." Her smile faltered. "But it's not just that I'm small and I can't do things that I used to do. It's things like – getting grounded – and stuff not belonging to me anymore." She looked up at him. "Everything is mum and dad's."

"I think that's how it's meant to be." He replied softly.

"Yes, but I just miss having my _own_ castle and my _own_ horse and my _own_ closet and picking out my _own_ clothes and my _own _shoes, tying my hair the way I want it to be."

She clenched her hands around the paper and it curled into a tight ball.

"I've been a child once before. From what I remember it was a wonderful childhood. What's wrong with me this time? Why is everything so...so..." she trailed off, looking for the word.

Edmund knew it. "Degrading." He supplied dryly.

"Yes!" Lucy said. "I can brush my _own_ hair. I can tie my _own_ shoes! I don't need mother to do it for me!"

"And the spit on the handkerchief? When she notices a smudge of dirt on your face? So not nice." Edmund agreed, pulling a face.

Lucy suddenly giggled. "Susan used to do that, remember? When we were little?"

Edmund grinned. "Even to Peter. You remember the look on his face when that Caloremene ambassador caught her spitting into her hanky and wiping the High King's face?"

Lucy's giggles subsided. She looked towards the stairs. "He's not coping very well, is he?"

Edmund looked to the ceiling, to where he knew his older brother was currently sitting in the dark and wallowing in his misery. "He's doing best he can. Can't be easy going from High King of Narnia to a school boy from Finchley."

Lucy gave her brother a shrewd look. "No, it can't be easy." She smiled sadly and fingered her pencil. "I'm not used to Peter not being able to fix everything."

Edmund gave her a wry smile. "_Peter's_ not used to Peter not being able to fix everything."

Lucy suddenly gave a small sniffle. "I miss him. How he was. Peter's not meant to be so - pitiful. It makes everything off balance."

"He'll come 'round." Edmund said.

"How do you know?"

"Because Susan's gone after him and you know how she doesn't let him wallow. And tomorrow you'll give him a hug and everything will be right again because he'll realise that he still has you two to look after. Because that's really what Pete's about, looking after people."

"And he'll realise he still has you." Lucy reminded him fiercely. "Because you'll get sick of his misery and go up there and tell him to get himself in order. Then he'll realise that no matter if he doesn't have his kingdom and no matter if he doesn't have his crown, he still has his brother, his fellow king, by his side"

Edmund felt insanely grateful towards his little sister. "Even if said fellow king is only eleven?"

"Even then." Lucy reached out and patted his cheek fondly. "If it's any consolation, I always see you as you really are." Her fingers slid to his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

"You'll always be my older brother. You'll always be my protector. You'll always be my confider. Just like you always were."

Lucy picked up the paper ball and lobbed it towards his head. Edmund ducked, grinning.

Just as they always were.

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So! Sort of a follow up to Co misery. Let me know what you think guys!


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